Dropping Keys

Hafiz, whose head had bumps and bruises from his moon flying encounters spent many a night seeding the prisoners’ cells. I long to join him but find myself too often cell bound and wingless.

I have started a small archive, a folder of nominations to the Fellowship of Key Droppers. It’s a lifetime achievement award of ancestors and witnesses, the ones that go before us, call our names, and remind us to stay true. Disguised as students and colleagues – Rose, Wallace, Dekha, Eme – these sages taught me, touched my life.

I sent Hafiz to their memorial services.

And as good ancestors they speak when I remember to listen…